Whar Lyrics
| Song | Whar |
| Artist | RZA |
| Album | Afro Samurai: The Resurrection |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| You ain't sayin' nothing slick to a can of oil | |
| Tell your man to tell his man that his man's a girl | |
| I holds weight, ya'll niggas skinny like | |
| Olive Oil | |
| We throws atleast half a ki' in the pot to boil | |
| Royal niggas, rags to riches | |
| Because your boy breaks bitches like glasses, dishes | |
| Burn money like | |
| I put it in some grass and spliffed it | |
| If I don't get my man that's passed, it's not misses | |
| Female donkeys, ya'll niggas ass and dickless | |
| Hard white rap, just some foil like chiclets | |
| Never had a wife, you better settle for the mistress | |
| The truth like | |
| Al Capone dying for the syphlis | |
| Cross me, you name flying on the hit list | |
| Ya'll niggas buck, won't even pop a clutch on the gear shift | |
| That ain't the hard pose, nigga, you just scared stiff | |
| I'm on my grizzly, you might walk right into bear shit | |
| You rock your pants too tight, get off that queer shit | |
| No turning back when it's on, | |
| I ain't trynna hear shit | |
| Like the coast guard, | |
| I got them choppers than can airlift [Chorus: Tash Mahogany] | |
| Sword, don't you know what you bring? | |
| You destroy everything - all the blood that you give to men | |
| There's, no excuse | |
| I could give - we just all want to live | |
| All the war that you bring to men | |
| War - is comin' home - takes families | |
| War - I'm not a great big fan of it | |
| War - is something that is scandalous | |
| Oh no – oh no | |
| War - is comin' by air, land, & sea | |
| War - is man's insanity | |
| This world... for sure... | |
| Must stop - this world of war [Ghostface Killah:] | |
| Tell ya fake niggas don't get me involved, my back is chunky | |
| Four-five hanging out the jeans, is crunchy | |
| Facial hair beard, looking like | |
| Abe Lincoln | |
| Stand next to you and my jewels look like ya cage is shrinking | |
| Love sweets like a dope fiend, nodder with fat hands | |
| Keep birds around me, they be calling me | |
| Batman Precisely | |
| I pop like cheap luggage, prefusely bleeding | |
| Word on the streets is you lost three buckets | |
| Fuck it, you keep dying, | |
| I'm into red diamonds | |
| Rob me, bitch, | |
| I have your whole hood crying | |
| Lighting candles on the street like, 'why you trying? ' | |
| Oh lord, why you had to lullabye him | |
| His jewels is cursed, his seeds is first | |
| When he do shows, he pop a wheelie off his murst | |
| Six three, medium built, tall like | |
| Lurch While ya'll faggots be sleep, he be putting in work [RZA:] | |
| That's his absorbance stance, | |
| I got it down to a glance | |
| It's war, | |
| I got the biggest gun down my pants, pants | |
| Got a rock, rocket in my pocket | |
| For to knock ya head right out the socket | |
| Turn teardrops to smile, been glanced this spare child | |
| Spra ya gallon of mace in your face, burn off your 'brows | |
| No phone home, you dribbling, we stone ya sibling | |
| Get my bloods from | |
| Tilden, to burn your building | |
| Poison tip dagger sword, chop through your collar bone | |
| No, you don't got a fucking chance to holler home | |
| Nice dream, your sliced spleen, cut through your ice bling | |
| G-O-D, heats, melts you like it's ice cream | |
| I'm not vanilla, | |
| I'm black panther chinchilla | |
| My cousin's an orangutan, my brother's a gorilla | |
| The other's a ape, he turn a rainbow straight | |
| Get you trapped in the jungle now you can't escape | |
| War it is, that's the biz, glock pop, plops the feds | |
| Split your wig, crack your whip, smack your wiz, blast your 'quip | |
| Chains and whips, planes and ships, guns, swords and flintstones | |
| And bricks, munch, clothes and kicks, you know it's [Chorus] |
| You ain' t sayin' nothing slick to a can of oil | |
| Tell your man to tell his man that his man' s a girl | |
| I holds weight, ya' ll niggas skinny like | |
| Olive Oil | |
| We throws atleast half a ki' in the pot to boil | |
| Royal niggas, rags to riches | |
| Because your boy breaks bitches like glasses, dishes | |
| Burn money like | |
| I put it in some grass and spliffed it | |
| If I don' t get my man that' s passed, it' s not misses | |
| Female donkeys, ya' ll niggas ass and dickless | |
| Hard white rap, just some foil like chiclets | |
| Never had a wife, you better settle for the mistress | |
| The truth like | |
| Al Capone dying for the syphlis | |
| Cross me, you name flying on the hit list | |
| Ya' ll niggas buck, won' t even pop a clutch on the gear shift | |
| That ain' t the hard pose, nigga, you just scared stiff | |
| I' m on my grizzly, you might walk right into bear shit | |
| You rock your pants too tight, get off that queer shit | |
| No turning back when it' s on, | |
| I ain' t trynna hear shit | |
| Like the coast guard, | |
| I got them choppers than can airlift Chorus: Tash Mahogany | |
| Sword, don' t you know what you bring? | |
| You destroy everything all the blood that you give to men | |
| There' s, no excuse | |
| I could give we just all want to live | |
| All the war that you bring to men | |
| War is comin' home takes families | |
| War I' m not a great big fan of it | |
| War is something that is scandalous | |
| Oh no " oh no | |
| War is comin' by air, land, sea | |
| War is man' s insanity | |
| This world... for sure... | |
| Must stop this world of war Ghostface Killah: | |
| Tell ya fake niggas don' t get me involved, my back is chunky | |
| Fourfive hanging out the jeans, is crunchy | |
| Facial hair beard, looking like | |
| Abe Lincoln | |
| Stand next to you and my jewels look like ya cage is shrinking | |
| Love sweets like a dope fiend, nodder with fat hands | |
| Keep birds around me, they be calling me | |
| Batman Precisely | |
| I pop like cheap luggage, prefusely bleeding | |
| Word on the streets is you lost three buckets | |
| Fuck it, you keep dying, | |
| I' m into red diamonds | |
| Rob me, bitch, | |
| I have your whole hood crying | |
| Lighting candles on the street like, ' why you trying? ' | |
| Oh lord, why you had to lullabye him | |
| His jewels is cursed, his seeds is first | |
| When he do shows, he pop a wheelie off his murst | |
| Six three, medium built, tall like | |
| Lurch While ya' ll faggots be sleep, he be putting in work RZA: | |
| That' s his absorbance stance, | |
| I got it down to a glance | |
| It' s war, | |
| I got the biggest gun down my pants, pants | |
| Got a rock, rocket in my pocket | |
| For to knock ya head right out the socket | |
| Turn teardrops to smile, been glanced this spare child | |
| Spra ya gallon of mace in your face, burn off your ' brows | |
| No phone home, you dribbling, we stone ya sibling | |
| Get my bloods from | |
| Tilden, to burn your building | |
| Poison tip dagger sword, chop through your collar bone | |
| No, you don' t got a fucking chance to holler home | |
| Nice dream, your sliced spleen, cut through your ice bling | |
| GOD, heats, melts you like it' s ice cream | |
| I' m not vanilla, | |
| I' m black panther chinchilla | |
| My cousin' s an orangutan, my brother' s a gorilla | |
| The other' s a ape, he turn a rainbow straight | |
| Get you trapped in the jungle now you can' t escape | |
| War it is, that' s the biz, glock pop, plops the feds | |
| Split your wig, crack your whip, smack your wiz, blast your ' quip | |
| Chains and whips, planes and ships, guns, swords and flintstones | |
| And bricks, munch, clothes and kicks, you know it' s Chorus |
| You ain' t sayin' nothing slick to a can of oil | |
| Tell your man to tell his man that his man' s a girl | |
| I holds weight, ya' ll niggas skinny like | |
| Olive Oil | |
| We throws atleast half a ki' in the pot to boil | |
| Royal niggas, rags to riches | |
| Because your boy breaks bitches like glasses, dishes | |
| Burn money like | |
| I put it in some grass and spliffed it | |
| If I don' t get my man that' s passed, it' s not misses | |
| Female donkeys, ya' ll niggas ass and dickless | |
| Hard white rap, just some foil like chiclets | |
| Never had a wife, you better settle for the mistress | |
| The truth like | |
| Al Capone dying for the syphlis | |
| Cross me, you name flying on the hit list | |
| Ya' ll niggas buck, won' t even pop a clutch on the gear shift | |
| That ain' t the hard pose, nigga, you just scared stiff | |
| I' m on my grizzly, you might walk right into bear shit | |
| You rock your pants too tight, get off that queer shit | |
| No turning back when it' s on, | |
| I ain' t trynna hear shit | |
| Like the coast guard, | |
| I got them choppers than can airlift Chorus: Tash Mahogany | |
| Sword, don' t you know what you bring? | |
| You destroy everything all the blood that you give to men | |
| There' s, no excuse | |
| I could give we just all want to live | |
| All the war that you bring to men | |
| War is comin' home takes families | |
| War I' m not a great big fan of it | |
| War is something that is scandalous | |
| Oh no " oh no | |
| War is comin' by air, land, sea | |
| War is man' s insanity | |
| This world... for sure... | |
| Must stop this world of war Ghostface Killah: | |
| Tell ya fake niggas don' t get me involved, my back is chunky | |
| Fourfive hanging out the jeans, is crunchy | |
| Facial hair beard, looking like | |
| Abe Lincoln | |
| Stand next to you and my jewels look like ya cage is shrinking | |
| Love sweets like a dope fiend, nodder with fat hands | |
| Keep birds around me, they be calling me | |
| Batman Precisely | |
| I pop like cheap luggage, prefusely bleeding | |
| Word on the streets is you lost three buckets | |
| Fuck it, you keep dying, | |
| I' m into red diamonds | |
| Rob me, bitch, | |
| I have your whole hood crying | |
| Lighting candles on the street like, ' why you trying? ' | |
| Oh lord, why you had to lullabye him | |
| His jewels is cursed, his seeds is first | |
| When he do shows, he pop a wheelie off his murst | |
| Six three, medium built, tall like | |
| Lurch While ya' ll faggots be sleep, he be putting in work RZA: | |
| That' s his absorbance stance, | |
| I got it down to a glance | |
| It' s war, | |
| I got the biggest gun down my pants, pants | |
| Got a rock, rocket in my pocket | |
| For to knock ya head right out the socket | |
| Turn teardrops to smile, been glanced this spare child | |
| Spra ya gallon of mace in your face, burn off your ' brows | |
| No phone home, you dribbling, we stone ya sibling | |
| Get my bloods from | |
| Tilden, to burn your building | |
| Poison tip dagger sword, chop through your collar bone | |
| No, you don' t got a fucking chance to holler home | |
| Nice dream, your sliced spleen, cut through your ice bling | |
| GOD, heats, melts you like it' s ice cream | |
| I' m not vanilla, | |
| I' m black panther chinchilla | |
| My cousin' s an orangutan, my brother' s a gorilla | |
| The other' s a ape, he turn a rainbow straight | |
| Get you trapped in the jungle now you can' t escape | |
| War it is, that' s the biz, glock pop, plops the feds | |
| Split your wig, crack your whip, smack your wiz, blast your ' quip | |
| Chains and whips, planes and ships, guns, swords and flintstones | |
| And bricks, munch, clothes and kicks, you know it' s Chorus |
Similar Songs
YouTube Results (More on YouTube)